


At Least For One Night

by astralundies



Category: Hustle Cat
Genre: A little biting and scratching, Age Difference, Cunnilingus, First Time, Non-binary Avery, Other, Spoilers, Vaginal Sex, some more vague than others
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-10
Updated: 2016-04-10
Packaged: 2018-06-01 09:23:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,139
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6512599
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/astralundies/pseuds/astralundies
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A steamy continuation of Graves's route, picking up after the final scene. Spoilers for the game and that route, obv.</p>
            </blockquote>





	At Least For One Night

**Author's Note:**

> OH JEEZ, OH HECK, this is my first time writing smut and I'm so nervous about it! :;(∩´﹏`∩);: This took a lot longer to write than I expected because I kept getting shy about it and second-guessing myself, but I love this game and I especially love Graves and Avery, so I figured it was time someone broke the seal and wrote some naughty HC fic.

It was difficult to share in the raucous partying of the others-- hell, even looking at how hard Finley went was enough to make Avery’s head hurt.

Festivities carried well into the night. The cafe staff celebrated the defeat of some rogue witch, some random bogey monster but Avery knew that for Graves, it was something much greater. It was hard to ignore his glances toward the door-- looking for stray bengal cats, most likely. That fear wouldn’t so easily be banished.

It was also hard to ignore his glances toward Avery, though that definitely, definitely, wasn’t fear in his eyes.

It was great to see everyone feel so relieved, but adrenaline steadily seeped away from  Avery’s body and they could feel the fatigue settle deep into their bones. If only their idea of celebrating was taking a nap…

Avery started awake at the feel of an arm around their shoulders, long fingers pressing into their arm. Well, _now_ they were awake.

“Alright,” Graves announced, “I believe it’s time to grant our hero respite.”  

The blank stares he received in response made him clear his throat. “Avery needs to rest. As do you all. So, away with you. And that extends to tomorrow-- the cafe will be closed. Paid holiday, of course. But, only if you all make sure to use that time to rest.”

That seemed to do it-- eventually, at least. It took a while longer, probably, for everybody to actually file out. Avery wasn’t sure of the timing; they fell asleep on the couch again and only stirred when roused by a soft voice and a hand on their face.

“Perhaps you’d rest more easily upstairs.”

Stairs. Ugh.

“Murr… I’m not getting up. Just lemme sleep here.”

“Ah, to sleep under a pile of cats. I’ve often wished for the same… although perhaps with less of a one-hundred-eighty degree view of the street from the windows. I’m not quite fond of that idea.”

Ew, that’s right… people could just look in, even with the security gates down. Gross.

“Muhh. Carry me upstairs, then.”

“As you wish.” They’d meant it as a joke, but before Avery could protest, his arms were around them. He muttered a quick word under his breath and lifted Avery as easily as a stack of paper.

“Oh, that’s cheating,” Avery said. “You can’t use magic to do it!”

“Alas, I must. There’s no muscle on these scrawny wings. I’m a lover, not a fighter.”

That was the whole problem, Avery thought.

They crossed the threshold of Graves’s apartment, and with a few strides were already at the couch. When Graves set them down his hands lingered, drawing only slowly, reluctantly, away. Avery took the opportunity to hook their fingers around the collar of his sweater and pull him in for a kiss. They felt him gasp as their lips met, felt the couch dip slightly as he leaned forward on his hands, forward against their mouth.

But then, he pulled away. Avery had never been so disappointed. (Well, that wasn't true, but…)

Their focus was sharply brought back to present as Graves exhaled a short, tiny sigh.  “Now that we are free of blight, I suppose it no longer makes sense for you to board here.” The tone in his voice almost sounded crestfallen, but Avery was sure they were hearing things. Maybe. “However, it is quite late, and you’re already halfway to slumber.” Well, not anymore-- not with the way their heart raced. “It may be more beneficial for you to get some rest, rather than to pack.”

It could have been the lighting, or maybe something else in the atmosphere, but Avery thought Graves almost looked nervous. Hopeful, maybe. It was hard to tell without eye contact, which he seemed to be withholding. Maybe they were just projecting.

“Besides, I imagine Mochi will require some time to bid farewell to the Countess. They’ve grown quite fond and I’d hate to separate them so suddenly.”

The cats weren’t the only ones who’d ‘grown fond’ of someone around here. Even if Avery had made their feelings quite apparent, it still felt weird and premature to share that. It had been a weird night.

“Well!” Avery squeaked, mouth suddenly dry. “It makes sense! To stay! Because my stuff is here. Already.”  Yup. Good. Nailed it. Smooth, like a cucumber.

That’s how that saying went, righ-- _oh_. Avery fought to avoid the inappropriateness-- or, appropriateness, as it were-- of that particular metaphor mashup.  

Well, it’s not like Graves picked up on the way their mind slipped around. Probably. Were they blushing? It was hard to tell.

“Please, stay put,” Graves said, gently patting the arm of the couch. “Lie back. Relax. Allow me to take care of everything. I’ll prepare the bedding and bring you your things.”

Avery laid back, shimmying to settle in against the throw pillows, though it didn't feel as great against their sore back as they'd hoped. “You gonna put my pajamas on for me too?” They couldn’t see his face then, but the way he cleared his throat said as much as his face would have. He seemed to do that a lot when he was nervous. Good.

Was there a sexy way to lay on a couch? One way to find out. They draped their arm over their head and arched their back--well, tried to. The drag of the couch fabric against their shirt rubbed the road rash between their shoulder blades. They hissed at the sudden reminder of the raw skin on their back, courtesy of the evening’s conflict.

“You aren’t...  hmm.”  Avery’s head whipped up to the sound: Graves, already back, standing over them with hands full of bedding.

Oh. He saw that.

“I’m what? I’m not what?”

Gingerly, he set the bedding down on the arm of the couch, then flicked his gaze back up to Avery. A  wave of worry knit his eyebrows together again. Avery could practically feel his eyes scan them, rake over their body from head to toe, and they weren’t sure whether to be flattered or alarmed.

Alarmed, mostly, given the way he covered his mouth with his hand and murmured something behind it.

“I’m not what? You’re freaking me out.”

“Ah… pardon. You aren’t injured, are you?”

“Well, I’ve got a big pain in my ass named Graves.”

His face darkened. “Avery, I’m serious.”

“Well… actually, yeah, kinda. My neck and back kinda hurt, from when I got thrown. Sort of feels like road rash, and I’m probably gonna have a hell of a bruise, but it’s fine. I usually sleep on my stomach anyway.”

“Oh, that won’t do.”

Graves lightly tapped Avery’s legs in a request for permission to sit. Avery obliged and moved their legs, but made no effort to sit up. Maybe they should just drape them over his lap and go back to sleep. Or do something else with them.

Maybe not.

“I should be able to do something. If you’ll allow, of course.”

“Something about what?”

“I don’t quite have a ‘knack’ for it, but I am at least competent in mending basic wounds. If you’d like.”

“What, like I’m gonna say no to magical healing or whatever? Bring it.”

“Fantastic. I think that will alleviate some pressure for us both. Sit up and face away from me, please.” Graves rolled his sleeves to the elbow and gently set his rings, one by one, on the coffee table. He slid closer to Avery, close enough to feel his body heat. “Forgive me. This may hurt at first. I’ll endeavor to remain gentle.”

Was he doing this on purpose? He must be. There’s no way Avery was imagining all of this horrible innuendo and these double entendres and the looks and… the thought flew away somewhere, down south for the winter, as his thumbs pressed against the base of their neck, on either side of their spine. He rubbed tiny circles, slowly moving out to their shoulders, applying more and more of his hand. When his palm rubbed against a particularly pernicious knot, they couldn’t help but let out a tiny sigh.

It stopped Graves, and his hands disappeared. “Ah, pardon… did I hurt you?”

“No, no, no. Keep going,” Avery said, arching their back toward him in encouragement. Avery felt him turn away and heard him clear his throat, but then, his hands were back.

Neither said anything, leaving Avery to their increasingly noisy and distracting thoughts. They needed to say something to break the silence before they made another embarrassing noise.

“Mmh… what kind of magic is this?”

“Deep tissue massage.”

“Are you a massage witch too?”

“No,” Graves laughed, “it’s literally a deep tissue massage. To do any sort of healing magic I’ll need to make skin-to-skin contact.”

“ _Oh_ ,” tumbled out of Avery’s mouth before they could stop it. “Should I… like… take my shirt off?” Graves let out a tiny, nervous chuckle that made Avery want to shuck the damn thing off like a corn cob. Just to see his reaction, you know.

“Oh, no, you can… you can just lift it, if that’s easier. If you’d like.”

“Ah… ha ha, of course.” Avery laughed the fakest, driest laugh in history, and hiked the back of their shirt up. They grabbed a pillow and hugged it close enough to smother their heartbeat, but they would’ve needed to smother their face to disguise the gasp that came as they felt cool hands on their back.

“I apologize in advance. My knowledge in this area is quite rudimentary,” and Avery swore it sounded like he whispered into their ear on purpose. It was bluster and false humility, and Avery could feel it on their back. It tingled, like rinsing with mouthwash, and the shiver that sent down their spine, somewhere deeper, was probably visible from space.

Graves definitely noticed. His hands stilled and he murmured a brief, tepid apology about their temperature. He rubbed his palms together, and when he replaced them on Avery’s back, they were considerably warmer. Avery thought that just made it worse.

He must be trying to kill them, Avery thought as he rubbed between their shoulder blades. It wouldn’t be a bad way to go, honestly, getting sensually massaged to death by the boss they keep mashing their face against.

The pain melted away in the heat of his hands, and soon nothing remained but the ripples of relief as Graves pressed into knots Avery didn’t even know they had.

“Ah…”

But then, his hands stopped and pulled away, and Avery realized that sudden absence was probably going to be their real cause of death. They heard him turn away with a long, heavy sigh. They’d messed up. Gotten too comfortable. Shouldn’t have made that noise.

“Avery, forgive me. I fear I’ve yet again misled you.”

“Hm?” Avery felt the cold spike of nerves pulse through their body. What else could there _possibly_ be, at this point? Why did he have to be so damn prone to dramatic pauses?

“I could have easily escorted you home. Could have recalled all of your belongings with a quick spell. In fact, I should, before I make a terrible mistake.” His long fingers ghosted, light enough for plausible deniability, across the small of Avery’s back. They couldn’t mask the tiny gasp, that telltale sharp intake. He probably could’ve heard their heart pounding all the way from across the room. Hell, the cats probably heard it downstairs.

Avery screwed up the courage to look over their shoulder. Their eyes met his. The image of a speeding truck with mismatched headlights came to mind. Avery considered pumping the breaks-- they’d only just kissed, only just been through some form of hell. They were still too heady with adrenaline to think this out.

Avery hit the gas.

“Is it really a mistake if it’s what I want?”

They turned to him, looking up through pale lashes, and pulled the shirt up over their head. There wasn’t much room left between them on the couch;  Avery wrapped a leg over Graves’s lap as they turned, and he froze as if trapped by an iron bar. Good. It’s his turn for a heart attack.

The air felt cold on their chest; the silence between them, save for the sound of their breathing, fell heavy on their shoulders. Graves’s eyes raked over Avery’s body, slowly working their way up to Avery’s face. Together they stared, wordless. Wanting.

“Are you sure?” Graves asked, finally. The tremor in his voice was unmistakable.

Avery nodded. “Stop stalling and kiss me.”

Graves obliged. He slid his hand beneath Avery’s chin and closed the gap between them.

He was a force that knocked the breath out of them. Graves swept his tongue across their mouth, asking permission to enter. The feeling when they parted their lips for his tongue wasn’t all that different than trying to maintain balance on the sand as the surf crashed around them. His hands fell to their shoulders, fingers tracing up and down their arms, and a shiver went down Avery’s spine that reminded them of just how shirtless they were.

They pulled away. Graves sat up ramrod straight with a murmured apology.

“Is everything alright?” He asked, running his hand through his hair.

“Can we go, um… to your room? There’s like, a million windows out here. So.” Should’ve thought about that before they threw their shirt across the room, but nobody would prosecute them for that crime of passion.

“Fair. Shall we?”

“Y...yeah.”

Graves led them by the hand into the bedroom. When he flipped on the dim bedside lamp, Avery was once again surprised by how...normal it was. The same severe, monochrome shades of black and grey (though this time with accents of blood red); the same simple, sleek furniture.  They felt a little betrayed by how clean it was. If any place should be messy, it’s the bedroom, but even his dirty laundry was stowed away somewhere neat and hidden. Avery looked forward to throwing a couple of rumpled garments on the ground to make up for it.

“Where’s the coffin?”

“Stowed behind the bookcase. Built into the wall, like a Murphy bed.”

“I don’t know what that is.”

“I’ll have to find another way to prove my vampiric mettle, hm?”

And Graves’s mouth was on their neck. His teeth grazed the skin, and Avery couldn’t hold back the shaky sigh that escaped their lips. When he playfully nipped at the base of Avery’s collarbone, they suddenly understood why someone would like vampires so much.

Graves’s hands fell to their hips, and Avery shuddered as they felt his thumb swipe across their hipbone. They weaved their fingers into his hair and clenched their hand around it as he led a trail of kisses back up to their ear.

“Lie down for me, won’t you, darling?” he whispered.

As much as they hated the idea of separating already, Avery bit their lip and nodded. They slid on to the bed-- unsurprisingly, the sheets were even nicer than those Avery had been borrowing. They were pretty sure they wouldn’t be able to go back to cheap Ikea linens after this.

Even nicer was the feeling of Graves above them. “Now, relax. I don’t want you to do anything. Let me take care of you.”

He pulled his sweater over his head-- somehow completely avoiding mussing his hair in the process-- and gently placed it on the nightstand before returning his attention, and his lips, to Avery.

Avery’s hands fumbled with the buttons on Graves’s shirt; it was hard, after all, to focus or see what they were doing when they refused to remove their mouth from his. A chuckle rumbled deep in his throat, and Graves made quick work of the rest, shrugging the shirt from his shoulders.  His hands were quickly back on Avery, fingers tracing up and down their chest. When his thumb brushed against their nipple, they couldn’t suppress the noise that escaped their mouth.

That got his attention. A smirk cracked his face and he swept his thumb again, once, twice. Avery squirmed and whimpered, which only seemed to encourage him. He opened his mouth like he was going to say something stupid, so Avery grabbed him by his hair and dove forward to catch his mouth with theirs.

It didn’t seem to do much good, but it at least refocused his attention-- but only for a moment. Graves pressed a kiss to the corner of their mouth, their jaw, their neck, and worked his way down. His attention remained singular enough that he found his next target quickly and unsurprisingly.

Avery had prepared for the sensation of his tongue against their nipple, but not for the feeling of him lightly biting down. They yelped and bucked their hips upward in surprise.

“Oh _shit_ ,” Avery gasped.

Graves leaned back and he looked so, so pleased with himself. Avery wanted to slap him.

“You've got quite a mouth on you,” he said with that awful smile on his face. What happened to all that humility and trepidation?

“What? Yours started it. You did, I mean. Your mouth.”

“I wonder what else mine can instigate. Do you have any suggestions?”

“Oh, I have an idea… but if you even try to use your teeth I am going to seriously, not even playing, kill you.”

“I’ll be on my best behavior,” Graves murmured before planting a kiss on their sternum. He traced a path down Avery’s abdomen with his tongue, stopping just above their fly. He glanced up and met their gaze, asking permission for the next step. Avery shot their hands down and tore the zipper open theirself.

Graves tugged slowly, agonizingly so, on the waistband of their pants. Avery slapped his hands away and roughly pushed the pants and boxers down, lifting their hips to ease their progress. Graves sat up on his elbows and all of that bluster and smug self-satisfaction seemed to have run away from his face.

It was Avery’s turn.

“You’re gonna have to move if you want me to keep going,” they said. For emphasis, they lifted their leg (no small feat with your pants halfway to your knees) and slid their foot against his thigh and upward. A shudder passed over his body as Avery rubbed their foot against his crotch, and they belatedly realized that they were probably speeding the wrong type of thing along.  

Graves wrapped his hands around their foot and tugged their pants down by the cuff until they were off and discarded off the side of the bed. So he _could_ be convinced to be less tidy given the right circumstances. The thought nearly distracted from how entirely naked they were; how entirely vulnerable they were now, lying on their boss’s bed; how _wet_ they already were-- but not quite. The hitch of his breath was a sharp reminder of their position, and a sudden call to attention to his.

Were they blushing now? Avery felt incandescent. The urge to sink beneath the mattress in embarrassment warred with the urge to wrap their legs around his waist, but when Graves lifted their foot and trailed a line of kisses up their leg, Avery decided the best course of action would be to lie back and enjoy the moment.

Though, easier said than done when their head swam and their heart pounded. Do they stay still? Try to, like… do something sexy?

Was that whimper that escaped their mouth sexy? Graves sure didn’t seem to mind, at least. Or maybe he was just too occupied to say anything.

He laid a kiss at the junction of Avery’s hip and thigh, and he was so, _so_ close. He slid his hands up the inside of their legs, leaned in, and gently blew a puff of air against their clit. They arched their back and moaned, and Graves _certainly_ didn’t mind that.

“Oh my god, you're trying to kill me. This is an assassination.”

“Well, the French call it the ‘little death’...”

“Graves, I _fucking swear,_ I will clamp my legs around your head and crush your skull,” Avery hissed through gritted teeth. They pulled their thighs together for emphasis, though nowhere near making good on their threat.

“Alright, alright,” he sighed, but his eyes flashed mischievously as he glanced back to Avery. “I didn’t expect you to talk dirty.”

“ _Graves!”_

“Alright, alright,” and then his tongue was on them, licking them open, trailing up-- and again, and again. It was unlike anything they’d ever felt. They couldn’t catch their breath, couldn’t keep the little gasps and moans quiet, couldn’t stop the feeling of electricity surging through them. Graves had a silver tongue in more than one way, turned out, but Avery would be damned before they gave him the satisfaction of saying that stupid joke out loud. He’d like it too much.

Avery wound their fingers tightly into his hair and let their head fall back against the pillows with his name tumbling from their lips. He hummed appreciatively, and Avery could feel it against them.

Graves’s hand found its way between their legs, and his finger traced up and down their opening. He pulled back, just for a moment, and Avery resisted the urge to shove his head back in place. “Is this alright?” He asked, demonstrating the question again with his hand.

“ _Please_ ,” Avery gasped emphatically. Given how aroused they already were, his finger slipped in easily. He followed soon after with another, and replaced his mouth against Avery’s clit. He rocked his wrist forward, slowly at first, and then with more boldness.

Avery felt theirself unravelling. He curled his fingers inside them, and they cried out, desperate to lift their hips but Graves had them pinned in place. It was too much. It wasn’t enough. It was close. They were close.

“G-Graves, I’m gonna, I’m gonna-- _ah_!”

He stopped.

Avery gave a cry of frustration as Graves pulled his hand away and sat up. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and took deep, ragged breaths.

A deep ache throbbed at their core, and Graves’s sudden refusal to break down what he’d built  was probably one of the worst crimes he’d ever committed. “Graves! Graves, come on, I was so...so close,” Avery whimpered.

“Darling,” Graves breathed, “you’ll find I’m not faring much better.”  There was more gravel and husk in his voice than usual, and it made that ache burn a little more fiercely. He looked in their eyes, and the contrast in his highlighted just how dark and blown his pupils looked. His hair was a mess. He looked _wrecked,_ and that felt so, so delightful to them.

Avery’s eyes drifted downward as Graves’s hands sank to the waist of his pants, and then they understood.  

“Jesus, I haven’t even done anything to you.”

“Oh, but you have. You've no idea what you've done to me.” Avery got the feeling the aim of that statement was much more broad than the present circumstances, but they couldn’t bring theirself to be too worried about it when other, more pressing issues were still at hand.

“So, what are you gonna do about it?”

He took a deep breath, and Avery expected another dramatic pause. God damn it, of _course_ he’d carry that over to the bedroom.

But then, he said, “Avery… I'd like to fuck you, if you'll allow.” So direct-- jarring, coming from the master of misdirection himself. Avery decided they liked it, liked the idea of him getting impatient, slipping his composure further.

“But please, don’t feel pressured. If you don’t want to, we ca--”

“Yes. Just hurry up and do it, because if you stall any more I’m gonna actually die.”

Graves barked a soft laugh. “That’s what I love about you. I could stand to be as forthwith.”

That L-word struck a pang in Avery’s heart, cutting through the tension and muddling their head in a different way. They shook it off quickly-- better not to worry too much about that sort of thing until later. “Be more forthwith with something else!”

“Yes sir,” Graves chuckled as he shifted off the bed and turned to rummage through his nightstand. Avery could get used to him calling them that, but that was also another conversation for another time. “It’ll be just a moment.”

The heat in them had subsided a bit. Avery laid back and fussed with the pillows, but stopped stock-still as Graves peeled his slacks, boxer-briefs (black, unsurprisingly), and socks (do you even need to ask) off. It was a beautiful sight.

He pulled a condom from the drawer, and Avery wasn’t sure where to look -- staring seemed kind of weird and inappropriate. Back to the pillows, they supposed.

But then, his hand was on Avery’s cheek. He leaned forward for a kiss, and Avery melted back into the sheets. He climbed back up over them, and the sight of his erection made their heart pound. This was real, and it was happening.

Nerves surged up from their gut to their throat. Avery tried to focus on something else.

“What a normal condom. I thought you'd have black, or glow in the dark, or something.”

“No, they refuse to sell those to you once you turn thirty.”

“Aww.”

“Hey.” Graves swept his thumb across their cheek and gently turned their chin upward to look him in the eyes. “Are you nervous?” He asked softly. “You can change your mind. It’s alright.”

“No no, it’s okay. I mean, I am, but I…” Avery bit their lip and swallowed. “I’m excited. But  I’ve, uh… I’ve never done this, so...”

“Oh, Avery… I’ll take care of you.” He laid a kiss on their forehead, gentle and assured.  “That’s some pressure on me, hm? I better make it memorable.”

“You better. It’s going in my scrapbook.”

Graves smiled a gentle smile, and slipped his hands down to their waist. He urged them up, and slipped a pillow below their hips to prop them up. “One for the books, then.”

“Yeah.” Avery sighed and let their legs fall open.  

Graves’s hand slipped down between their legs. He took his cock in hand to steady himself and slowly, slowly, guided himself in. Avery gasped at the intrusion. Graves whispered sweet nothings in their ear, gentle words of encouragement, until Avery’s breathing leveled and they calmed.

“I’m going to move now, if that’s alright,” Graves whispered. Avery swallowed, wrapped their hands around his neck, and nodded against his shoulder.  

It...hurt? No, that wasn't the right word for it at all, this slick fullness stretching them to the breaking point. It was overwhelming, delightful, powerful. Each gentle roll of Graves's hips sent them trembling, and they held on to his shoulders for dear life. Maybe letting go wouldn't be so bad if it felt like this.

He pushed a little harder, and they gasped and dug their fingernails into his back out of reflex. Graves growled into their ear and snapped his hips, driving deeper into them.  Avery yelped. Graves stilled and pulled back as if slapped.  

“Oh-!! Avery, oh Avery, I’m so sorry. I lost myself for a moment.”

“No, that’s… no,”  Avery murmured, dazed. “That’s good. Good to know.”  

“O-oh, that’s… not the reaction I expected.”

“Guess we’re both full of surprises, huh?”

“I suppose so,” Graves breathed as he rested his forehead against Avery’s and began to move again.

They built a comfortable rhythm, slow and easy. Avery rocked upward to meet his thrusts, and lifted their head to capture him in another kiss. They wrapped their legs around his back and arched upwards, trying a little harder, a little deeper. He took the hint and changed his pace, gripping their thighs and pulling them closer. The tense pleasure they’d lost earlier built back up quickly, hotter and more intense than before.

Tentatively, they reached their hand further down his back, then dug in their nails and raked them up Graves’s shoulder blade. His reaction wasn’t as strong this time, at least not towards Avery, but the shudder and low moan that came from him was just as telling.

“You like that kind of thing?” Avery panted, struggling to find the breath and the words to piece together a thought.

He was slow to respond, lost in the moment, lost in concentration. “Yeah,” he breathed, “sometimes.” Avery loved that his eloquence had plummeted, loved that they could make him lose his words like that. Maybe they could even make him swear.

They leaned forward, nuzzled their head against his shoulder, and then opened their mouth and bit down on the skin between his neck and his shoulderblade.

“Oh _fuck,_ Avery,”  Graves gasped. There it was. They leaned back to admire their handiwork. It wouldn’t have been enough to break skin or leave a mark (that seemed like a horrible idea), but it had left its mark on Graves regardless.

Seeing him unwound like this-- hair mussed, glowing with sweat and the flush on his face, open-mouthed panting-- sent a jolt through their body, sparked the tight heat that coiled in their abdomen.

Graves slipped his hand down between them and roughly swept his thumb across their clit. It was too much, it was just right, it was right there, it--

“A-ah, ah, _fuck,_  I’m… Graves,  I’m-- AH!” Avery came in crashing waves, hips jerking to meet the tide. Graves’s fingers dug into their thighs and he snapped his hips once, twice, and then he was gone, trailing closely after Avery.

They stilled and stayed together, both taking deep, shuddering draughts of air to catch their breaths. Avery would’ve stayed like that forever, or at least until the aftershocks of their orgasm finally ebbed away.

They couldn’t, though. Avery lamented the loss, toes curled in displeasure, as Graves pulled out. They felt empty, spent. Vulnerable.

Wearily, Graves sighed and stretched his arms around Avery, drawing them close, tucking their head beneath his chin. He rubbed small, comforting circles between their shoulderblades, and Avery couldn’t help but be reminded of how this whole thing began.   

“How are you?” He asked. Avery could hear the fatigue in his voice.

“I'm a little sore… but that's how it goes, y’know?”

“Well, I happen to know a bit of healing magic…”

“Mrr. What I want right now is sleep magic,” Avery murmured, drawing the comforter up around them both.

“I think that’s one thing we won’t need magic for,” Graves sighed.

He was right. They both slept.

The lights from the street peeked through the cracks between the blinds of the bedroom window, but Graves didn’t bother to glance outside. Maybe this would be enough to make him forget certain stray bengal cats, at least for one night.


End file.
